Firsts. I’ve always been a fan of first days on the calendar – The first day of the week, of the month, of the year. There’s power in using a “first” to renew a commitment, refresh a perspective, and resolve to do – and be – more.
2018 brought big firsts for us. We anticipate 2019 bringing lots of room for a refresh. Actually, we know it will. Because we’re packing up and moving — again!
My boy, Mac!
Welcome to our family, my little man. We are so happy you are here. Your Mommy and I talked for months before you were born about all the fun we wanted to have with you once you arrived.
December of 1960 was the last time this “Drunken Duchess” would ever see the Ocean. But, it was time. She was old and she had a good run. She’d been all over the world, but she was finally home in Newport, South Wales.
She had been places most people could only dream of – Bermuda, Egypt, Somalia, Gibraltar, Bombay, Iceland, Sicily, Cape Town, Java, New York City, and Montreal – to name a few.
The Drunken Duchess has done more to connect my family together second only to the marriage of my own parents.
There are a lot of articles being written and shared on social media regarding thoughts on the recent violence provoked by armed racist demonstrators at Charlottesville this past weekend.
There is a lot to say about responsibility and blame and whataboutism and motivation and history and hindsight, but I’m not interested in that right now because I’m seeing what I believe is a bigger problem.
Small baby, this is the story of how I met your mother.
My original plan was to move to Hawaii. That was the plan. My whole life I loved other cultures. I had just lived in Japan for nearly two years – and most of it on a Hawaii-clone island of Okinawa. I knew that the school I wanted to go to would have a lot of Japanese people, as well as people from all over the world. So that was the plan.
Once upon a time, we reserved our most vicious and insulting verbalized thoughts for bad-day grumblings at the dinner table in the privacy of our own homes. And the only audience to these hidden ideas were people vetted enough to join such an intimate setting.
The way we choose to talk about politics on social media is damaging our friendships and family relationships. I’m hoping to change it from my end.
It’s not like we planned this enchanted evening without some particular safety measures. Any number of things could have gone wrong. Indeed, the Blood Brothers have been involved in many-an-unsafe activity. We learned from those previous shenanigans that we should plan this out with some safety conditions. Consider the following, and how a potentially regrettable situation may unfold:
The fateful night of Johnny’s kidnapping had arrived.
We were all – minus Johnny – at my place. I think my mom made us some pizza for the late night ahead. In this case, “we” involved Mark, Ryan, myself – and a new guy to town named Drew. The plan was to get to Hillspring at around 3:00AM, so we tried to catch just a little sleep before leaving. As the witching hour approached, Ryan and Drew left in Ryan’s trusty Jetta and Mark and I left in my car.
Hello, my name is James.
I'm an Experience Chaser, Peanut-Gallery Philosopher, Serial Wantrepreneur, Devoted Daydreamer, Passionate Flavor Enthusiast, Amateur Family Historian, and Casual Photo & Film Hobbyist.
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